


Entangled

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Light Bondage, M/M, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-06
Updated: 2006-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron gets himself into trouble, and then quite possibly back out again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Springsmut 2006.

Upon reflection, Ron Weasley realized, it wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had. Yes, Remembralls were expensive and he didn't have the pocket change to replace the one he'd just managed to lose. Yes, there were probably better ways to flirt with Laura Madley than to challenge the girl to a game of two-person Quidditch with her own Remembrall. When it had disappeared, she burst into tears and raced for Hufflepuff rather than helping Ron "find" it down behind the greenhouses.

Which had rather been the point, actually.

Ron scuffed his shoe through a patch of weeds as he looked for the glassy glint. The ball couldn't have gone far - it was a simple lob without much force. He'd been aiming for that nice grassy spot with a bit of sun, but Laura's broom had hit his, he'd pushed the throw harder than intended, and now the Remembrall was buried somewhere in Sprout's leftovers. It didn't help that the scolding voice in his head sounded exactly like Hermione: "What were you _thinking_ , Ron? She's a third-year _Hufflepuff_!" Ron couldn't tell whether the Hermione-in-his-mind was angrier about the Hufflepuff part or the third-year part. Probably both - Hermione was like that.

Glumly, Ron bent to move some vines aside in hopes that the Remembrall had nestled beneath them, but there was nothing there but dirt. When he started to stand up, however, the vines held on. He tugged harder, and the plant tugged in response. Ron leaned his weight in the other direction and pulled; in response, another vine whipped out of the mess and curled around his shoe.

"Shite!" Ron tugged again as he yelled, but the stupid plant wouldn't stop attacking him. "Is anyone there? Professor Sprout?" If he were lucky, Millicent Bulstrode wouldn't be the only person in the greenhouses. Ron thought death-by-rude-plant might be far superior to living at the expense of rude Slytherin. "Anyone there?"

"Ron? Is that you?" Neville Longbottom's face appeared in one of the greenhouse windows. "Whatever are you doing back there in the trash heap? Be careful."

"Too late for that," Ron grunted. "Just get out here with a knife, will you? I'm stuck." He yanked the vines again, which retaliated by whipping around his other ankle and slamming him to the ground.

Neville's eyes widened. "Quit _pulling_ , Ron. I'll be right there." He disappeared from the window as Ron caught his breath.

Moments later, Neville raced around the greenhouse and stopped in front of Ron. He pulled on an extremely long and bulky glove, then poked at the vines. A tendril wrapped around the glove, and Neville gently slid his hand out. He sat on the ground next to Ron and rested his chin in his hands.

"Well? Get me out of this stuff, Neville! I've got to find Madley's Remembrall."

"What? Oh, I found a Remembrall just now." Neville dug into his pocket and pulled out a familiar globe. "I was going to see whose it was. Hard thing, to lose one of these." His voice was somewhat wistful, but he started to chuckle. "What were you doing with a Hufflepuff's Remembrall, anyway? She'll be lost without it. Guess the Snare serves you right."

Ron struggled again, trying to get free of the vines and grab the Remembrall away from Neville, until he realized what Neville had just said. "Snare?"

"Yes," Neville said somewhat patiently. "You're in Devil's Snare. I knew there was a bit of it back here, but it hides when we come out to hunt for it. That's why there's a new ward around the buildings - it's only down right now because Bulstrode and Finch-Fletchley and I were working on our projects and cleaning pots."

Ron fell back and quit moving. "Devil's Snare," he said hollowly. "There was some when we went after Quirrell."

Neville nodded. "It's nasty stuff." He smiled apologetically at the plant. "No offense, but you are."

"Neville." Ron looked at him with disbelief. "Did you just apologize to the _plant_? Are you trying to soften it up so it will let me go?"

"Oh, that wouldn't work," Neville said, crossing his legs. "Devil's Snare is immune to compliments. It would be a bizarre way to get around its attack impulses."

Ron gritted his teeth. "Neville. You're clearly the expert here. Get me out of this stuff or it will _kill_ me."

"It's nowhere near killing you, Ron." Neville grinned. "It's just a baby, really. It's testing its strength. You wouldn't die for hours."

Ron slumped back, as much as he could manage while being restrained. His head fell against a soft pile of something - he decided not to ask what it was, but it smelt of comfrey, which wasn't too bad given the other options - and he sighed. "Just get me out of here, will you?"

"What _were_ you doing, anyway?"

Ron felt the blush riding upward across his face. "Madley's Quidditch-mad. Everyone knows it. And she's got a thing for Harry, so I figured..."

"Next-best still gets you snogged?"

"That wasn't particularly kind, Neville!" Ron frowned at his friend, whose face was unreadable in the late afternoon glare.

Neville shrugged. "Sorry, I suppose. Still, Lavender's going to kill you. And Ginny. And Hermione too. A third-year and a Hufflepuff - honestly, Ron."

Ron groaned. "You sounded just like Hermione. First her voice is in my head and now you're sounding like her?"

"Maybe you ought to listen." Neville had found a stray comfrey leaf and was shredding it methodically, making a neat pile of sticky strips. "Seems like you're trying to snog anything that moves these days. Any girl, anyway."

Ron raised up as much as he could to stare at Neville. "Not fair, mate! What's _with_ you?"

Neville shrugged, rolling the comfrey strips into a ball. "You're having fun. No harm, I guess."

Ron let his head thud back against the dirt as he sighed. "Neville, I'm an adolescent wizard from a family of seven children. Of course I'm trying to snog anything that moves. As Malfoy would no doubt point out with a fucked-up sneer, I'm a Weasley." He felt a tickle on his throat. "Neville, get me out of this stuff! It's got me at the neck!"

"It's not going to kill you," Neville repeated. "It's just a baby. I'll get it off you in a bit, but I want to capture it rather than scare it off."

"Great," Ron said morosely. "I'm part of your experiment now."

"You could be, but you aren't interested," Neville said quietly.

Ron lifted his head as much as he could. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"You said something, Neville. Say it again. Not like I'm going anywhere."

Neville raised his head until he locked gazes with Ron, his chin stuck out somewhat defiantly. "I said you could be part of my experiment but you're not interested. Nobody is, really, so it's not a big deal." He dropped his attention to his hands again and started to shred another leaf.

"Neville," Ron said, "what are you talking about?"

Neville sighed and wiped his fingers on his trousers. "It's not an issue, Ron. Drop it. I'll go get some gloves and a pot."

"Hold on," Ron said. "If it's not going to kill me, we have time. What are you talking about?"

Neville blushed. "I...I think I might like boys," he said in a near-whisper. "Like _that_."

"Oh," Ron said, momentarily confused. "Oh! Like Charlie, then."

Neville looked at him, equally confused. "What?"

"My brother Charlie," Ron explained. "The one in Romania. Fancies blokes. It's not a problem, Neville, unless you think it's one. Wouldn't go telling Malfoy, though."

Neville chuckled. "I think he'd mind less than you."

Ron's eyes widened. "The Prince of Darkness himself? Ugh! He's obsessed with Harry!" He lay quietly for a moment, thinking. "It's all right, Neville. I won't say unless you want me to."

"Thanks." Neville sat still, then flicked a glance at Ron. "Could I kiss you?"

Ron lifted his head, but the tendril across his neck tightened a bit. "What? Why would you want to do that?"

Neville sighed. "Never mind. I just thought - you're my friend, and you're sort of tied up at the moment, and you could say I'd taken advantage of you or something, but it doesn't matter." He slid the discarded glove out of the Devil's Snare and rolled to his knees.

"Hold up," Ron said. "Not saying no, Neville. I was just a bit startled, that's all."

"You're not interested," Neville said. "I don't want you to think I'm, you know, Malfoy or anything."

Ron thought for a moment, then grinned. "What the hell. Always wondered what Charlie saw in other blokes anyway. Give it a try, Neville."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Ron said quietly. "It's all right."

Neville dropped the glove and moved closer, carefully avoiding the Snare. He bent down over Ron's immobilized head and pressed his lips to Ron's, soft and dry, then lifted again.

"Hold up, Neville." Ron laughed. "You won't learn anything that way. Like kissing your gran, that was."

Neville stared at him. "What? Did I do it wrong?"

"Oh. Neville," Ron said carefully, "was that your first kiss? With anyone? Even Ginny?"

Neville nodded, blushing.

"Try again," Ron said softly.

Neville leaned down to press his mouth against Ron's. Ron could feel him holding perfectly still and unsure, so he took the initiative and opened his mouth just enough to slide the tip of his tongue across Neville's closed lips. Neville jumped a bit, but opened his mouth in response. Ron pushed his tongue in further; at the first slide of tongue on tongue, Neville made a strangled noise and began to kiss Ron in earnest. It wasn't a technically-brilliant kiss, Ron thought, but it was damned enthusiastic. And, if he had to admit it, rather nice.

Neville pulled away, flushed and breathing a bit quickly. "Thanks. I - I think that might have proved something. Sorry if it was awful for you."

"Not exactly," Ron said. "You could do it again if you wanted. For practice." He was sure his face was equally flushed.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"I'm beginning to see things from my brother's perspective," Ron said hoarsely. Kissing boys hadn't been anything Ron had ever thought of, but now that he'd started he wasn't particularly inclined to stop. "Come on, Neville. Give it another try." He moved to lean up toward Neville, but the Devil's Snare tightened all its tendrils and he slammed backward. "Damn it!"

"It's got you good and tight," Neville said. He sat back on his heels with a thoughtful expression.

"Yeah," Ron said. "So take advantage, mate." He grinned.

"I could, you know." Neville cocked his head to one side, considering. "I could do whatever I wanted to you, all tied down like that. And you wouldn't have to admit to any of it if you didn't want to."

Ron gulped. "Right. Being tied up and all." He wriggled a bit to ease the sudden tightness in his trousers, hoping that Neville hadn't noticed the tented fabric. Neville leaned forward and traced a finger along the bulge in Ron's jeans. _So much for not noticing_ , Ron thought frantically.

"Anything I wanted," Neville mused.

"Fuck, Neville," Ron panted, "I don't like the look in your eye." The vines twitched, almost as if they were sympathetic to Ron's plight, though he noticed they weren't loosening at all.

"Right," Neville said, kneeling up and dropping a quick kiss to Ron's lips. "Brave Gryffindor."

"What are you going to do?" Ron was bouncing rapidly between apprehension and anticipation, both equally stoked by the determined look in Neville's eyes.

"I'm going to suck your cock," Neville said as he reached to unbutton Ron's jeans. "I've wanted to try it, and, well - you're not going anywhere."

Ron wondered when Neville's laugh had acquired that devious tinge, but stopped wondering as a small calloused hand slid into his pants and worked his cock free. He whimpered at the firm grip and unfamiliar touch; somehow, knowing that it was a boy's hand - that it was _Neville Longbottom's_ hand - and that they were out in the open behind a glass-walled greenhouse made him even harder.

Neville pushed as much fabric away as he could, given that the vines had bound Ron's ankles together, and managed to slip the elastic waist of Ron's pants under his sac. Ron thought it felt almost like a kinder version of the Snare that bound him to the dirt. He added "being tied up" to the list of things he'd never thought would turn him on, though all things being equal he didn't think he'd want to try it again with Devil's Snare. He was roughly wrenched away from this train of thought by the warm wetness suddenly surrounding his cock; he looked down and saw Neville's familiar brown hair and pale face hovering just above his crotch, a bulge in his cheek that Ron realized he himself was causing. The sight nearly did him in, and he writhed with the sensory overload.

In response, the Snare tightened even further. The tendril across his throat was joined by another, and a new strand whipped across his chest. Ron hadn't been particularly worried up to this point, but it felt like the Snare had made a decision of some sort. "Neville? The plant's angry."

Neville let Ron's cock drop out of his mouth and looked up. "Then quit moving."

"You're _sucking_ me, Neville. I'm going to move. It's part of the deal."

Neville shrugged. "I'm not going to banish it until I'm done. If you struggle, it'll tighten more. Might even kill you. If you stay quiet and still, it'll respond the same way."

"You flippin' bastard," Ron said with some awe. "Might almost think you'd planted Devil's Snare back here on purpose."

"Just on the off chance that you'd try to seduce a fourteen-year-old Huffle by stealing her Remembrall?" Neville laughed, then sobered. "Stay still or you'll be in more trouble." He bent down again.

Ron gasped as Neville's mouth slid onto his erection again, warm and hot and wet. Neville's tongue worked the groove along the bottom of Ron's cock while Ron's tip was nestled at the back of Neville's throat. Ron groaned at the overwhelming sensation, but did his best to stay perfectly still. The vines lay quietly across his skin, pulsing nearly imperceptibly in time with his rapid heartbeat. Neville reached to cup Ron's sac in his hand, then worked his finger back onto the soft skin behind.

Ron jumped, and the vines tightened in warning. "Neville, what the _fuck_?"

Neville merely sucked harder and frowned up at Ron, his finger pushing back further. He raised his head for a moment, voice roughened: "Did you want me to have the plant do this?"

Ron thought for a moment of what it might feel like to have the Snare's tendrils wrapped around his cock and bollocks, tightening steadily, or a thin tendril forcing its way into his entrance. He whimpered in sudden arousal blended with fear, which wasn't helped at all by Neville's chuckle. Ron wondered when Neville had learned to laugh just like Snape.

"Thought so," Neville said, and dropped his mouth back onto Ron's cock as he began to stroke his finger across the puckered muscle he'd been seeking. He began to suck in earnest, one hand working the base of Ron's shaft while the other teased Ron's arse.

Ron fought the strong desire to reach for Neville, to push against his hand and finger and mouth, to thrust into the suction surrounding him - really, to do anything except lie as quietly as possible and wonder whether Devil's Snare or Neville Longbottom were going to kill him first. He moaned quietly, but even that caused the Snare on his throat to pull tighter. Obedience had never been Ron's strong suit, but he found himself wishing he'd developed the skill just in preparation for a situation like this.

Neville was inexperienced but enthusiastic, and Ron was soon racing down the slope toward orgasm. He grunted just a bit, as a warning, though even that caused the Snare to react. Neville simply sucked harder and pushed his finger in just a bit, careful in the absence of lube not to hurt Ron at all. That tiny intrusion was enough to finish Ron off, and he finally had no problem holding still as his cock spasmed and he shot into Neville's steadily-sucking mouth.

When Ron had finished and slumped in exhaustion, Neville sat up and tucked Ron back into his jeans, buttoning them in place and wiping his mouth and hands. He slipped the bulky glove back onto his hand, pulled his wand, and waved it at the Devil's Snare, muttering a few words. As the Snare released Ron, Neville darted forward and pulled it free from the ground.

Ron sat up in disbelief. " _Bluebell Flames?_ That's a first-year spell, Neville."

Neville shrugged. "It works on Snare. Isn't that what Hermione used to banish it when you and Harry were looking for the Philosopher's Stone?" The Snare wriggled in Neville's firm grasp.

Ron looked around and grabbed a nearby abandoned pot, holding it out for Neville, who plunked the Snare into it and cast a Stunning Spell on the vines.

"Thanks," Neville said, standing up and taking the pot from Ron. "I'll take this in and ward it safely, but it'll be some help in my project." He turned to go toward the greenhouse as Ron scrambled to stand.

"Neville. _Neville!_ Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to work," Neville said. "You needn't think I'll try again, but thank you. I figured some things out."

"Neville," Ron said patiently, reaching to touch his shoulder. "You don't need to run."

"You don't like boys, Ron." Neville's voice was quiet but resolute. "I apparently do."

"I don't know what I like," Ron said honestly. "I mean, apart from the general snogging and groping and whatnot. Who does it may mean a lot less than I thought it did."

Neville turned back to Ron, clutching the pot of Snare to his chest. "Meaning what?"

Ron shrugged, blushing again. "Meaning...well. Give me back Madley's Remembrall, will you? I'll give it back to her, and you can go cosset your new friend there." He shivered at the Snare, waving its tendrils calmly in the light breeze. "Then, after supper, maybe we can talk."

"Talk." Neville's smile was shy but definite. "I could do that."

"Good," Ron said. "And then maybe you could help me with _my_ experiment."

Neville's shy smile grew into a grin. "What experiment is that, Ron?"

"Call it genealogy," Ron said with a shrug. "Just seeing if things run in families."

"Like whether you like the same things Charlie likes?"

"Something like that." Ron was now the one with the shy smile. "It's all right, Neville. Maybe more than."

Neville nodded and turned back to the greenhouses. "After supper, then." He went along the path. At the corner of the greenhouse, he stopped and pulled the Remembrall from his pocket and flipped it to Ron. "Don't forget." He grinned at Ron and turned the corner.

Ron tossed the Remembrall up into the air, then caught it again and slipped it into his pocket. He rubbed his throat, feeling the welts left behind: definitely a stop by the washroom first, and a quick healing charm. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Hermione about Devil's Snare and its dangers. He headed for the castle in search of Madley - the apology would be painful, but he'd get through it. After all, he had a date after supper. Perhaps there'd even be herbology homework involved.

A boy could hope, couldn't he?


End file.
